


Homage

by sailorgreywolf



Series: Hetalia Writer's Monthly [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorgreywolf/pseuds/sailorgreywolf
Summary: Prussia holds a grudge for a slight done to him when he was young.
Series: Hetalia Writer's Monthly [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055744
Kudos: 4





	Homage

The Teutonic Knights was thinking of a number of oaths and insults as he kneeled. He knew that if the Grand Master could hear what he was thinking he would be scolded for it, and forced to copy manuscripts until his hands hurt. 

He knew that the Lord knew what he thought, but he felt like He would understand this anger. It was a travesty that a holy knight should be forced to kneel in front of his enemy. It had taken a lot of cajoling to get the Teutonic Knights to even learn the correct ceremony. 

After the loss at Tannenburg, there had been no choice. He could still feel the edge of Lithuania’s blade under his chin, and the thought made his blood boil. It had been a dirty trick, and there was no honor in winning like that. 

It felt like a particularly harsh lesson to the Teutonic Knights that the honor he valued so highly was not a universal quality. Others would disregard it if it served their purposes. 

The Grand Master had explained the consequences of the loss to him in detail, and with many a blameful glance. The Teutonic Knights felt like he had done everything he could have to win the battle, and it was not fair for him to take any blame. 

The loss threatened his existence as a monastic order, and he had to take a new position in the wold. After so many years of fighting, he was faced with a crisis that he couldn’t solve with a sword. He had caved to the Master’s wishes, and agreed to do as he was told. But that did not make him any happier to be looking down at the lavish shoes. 

They were satin studded with gemstones that he could even name. How gaudy they were. How unnecessarily ostentatious. He wanted to tip his face up and tell the man exactly what he thought of him. It seemed to him that no good Christian should take such vanity in their own appearance. But, he was not so foolish that he would say anything. 

He knew that his existence depended on him accepting that Poland had defeated him, and he would not open his big mouth. No matter how much he wanted to, it would have been a very bad idea to say anything at all. 

He kept his head down and pressed his hands together like he was praying in a gesture of submission. It was the process of making a vow, and he had seen it done many times before. He had never done it before, but the motions were familiar.

For the briefest moment, he imagined how Poland might use the moment to humiliate him. He was on his knees in front of a man he did not trust, and he could easily imagine a way that Poland might use his weakness to show his power. 

The man was an arrogant, swaggering peacock, and Prussia had to hope that he had some sense of proper behavior. 

Poland started speaking, “I am prepared to grant you a fief, if you will pledge you fealty to me.” 

The Teuton knew all of this already, since it had been discussed at length behind closed doors. He was to hang up his cross and accept life as a duchy under the Polish king. The Grand Master, who would soon be the Duke of Prussia, had said it was generous. That had seemed like an odd word to choose for an offer made by an enemy to become his vassal. 

The words that Poland spoke were not for him. They were for everyone gathered to hear so that they knew what was being offered, and accepted. It was for Lithuania, who he had no doubt was standing beside his husband reveling in every moment of it. 

It was for the knights to know that their order was defeated, and must take what the victor deigned to give him. The Teuton clenched his teeth to repress how angry it made him. 

Thankfully, he did not have to unlock his jaw to give a response. If he did, he was not certain what he would have said, or how sincere it would have sounded. But, Poland had no need for his response. 

Instead, Poland continued with the ritual, and said, “Do you swear that you will defend me? Do you swear to come to my aid if I call upon you?”   
The Teutonic Knights knew that this was a standard part of the oath. He responded as he was supposed to, “I do.” 

It felt terribly binding to say it out loud. For a moment, he had to swallow back his bile. He had expected every step of his process, but he had not anticipated how it would hurt to do it. 

He expected hands to be placed over his own, as was tradition, and the reciprocal vow to be said. 

But, it did not come. Impatient, the Teuton looked up at Poland. He knew that he was not supposed to look up out of proper deference, but he could not wait. Poland gave him a cunning smile and said, “Do you swear on pain of death to never again raise a sword against you liege lord?” 

That was not a usual part of the vows, and he felt like Poland was adding it to shame him. He felt the heat of indignation rising in his cheeks, and he was sure that Poland was enjoying watching him turn red. 

He was being forced to apologize for his campaigns, and he loathed it. But, there was no way that he could turn back. He needed this vow, and he had already sworn the first part. 

He repressed anything else he wanted to say, and said only, “I do.” 

It felt like a betrayal of his own heart and the men who had died in battle. But, he could not turn back. The Grand Master had said as much in his lecture. It was time to move forward and carve out a new position in politics, not to mourn the life that he was losing. 

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Poland spoke in that frustrating sweeping voice of authority, “In exchange for this vow, I grant you a duchy to hold in fief. You will be responsible for tending to this gift and making sure that it prospers. I give you this in good faith and friendship.” 

Poland placed his hands over the Teuton’s own. The warmth of someone else’s flesh touching his was uniquely off-putting. He must not squirm or look uncomfortable, he reminded himself. 

He met Poland’s eyes, and felt very small for a moment. He felt like a child being placed in someone else’s care when he should be more than that. He was a knight, and a successful one at that. But, a vow was a vow and his honor would not let him betray it. 

To his surprise, Poland leaned forward and placed a kiss on the Teuton’s lips. It was brief and as chaste as a kiss could be, but it felt like the worst kind of intrusion. He was too close and the warmth of his breath was uncomfortable.

He then said, ignoring the look of absolute shock that the Teuton had on his face, “Pax vobis.”   
On well-trained instinct, the Teuton answered, “Pax vobiscum.” 

Poland gave him a warm smile, like he took it as a firm assurance that there was peace between them. The newly Christened duchy of Prussia stood up, because he could not stomach kneeling for another moment. 

Poland pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. Prussia couldn’t stifle his own grunt in response to the unexpected contact. Hugging was not something that he was used to, since the knights were sparing in their physical affection. 

Poland said in his ear, in a voice that carried far less authority, “Now there can be peace.” 

Prussia was not certain what to call the feeling lurking in his chest, but he was certain that for the time being it must be restrained for the sake of peace and the sake of his oath.

————————————————-  
1772

Prussia stepped out of the carriage and took a deep breath of the floral summer air. Nothing could have matched his mood better than the beautiful day. He felt like he was about to vanquish the enemy of his childhood, and the thought filled him with glee. 

The singular instruction that Fritz had given him when he had left Berlin was, “do not gloat.” Out of all of the orders that the king had given him, this would be the hardest to follow. How could he not gloat when this was exactly what he had wanted for a very long time? 

Fritz had tasked him with handling everything with dignity, and he was finding that uniquely impossible. 

There was an undeniable spring in his step as he walked through the halls. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so chipper, and he was certain that anyone would notice. It took all of his will to not whistle a happy tune to himself as he walked. 

That would a little too callous even for him, and he needed to maintain some reputation. His co-conspirators in this action had been at war with him not so long ago, and he would be a fool to forget it. They would take any show of weakness as a chance to exploit it. 

He was surprised to see that Russia was already standing in the hallway, looking out the window. Prussia was not certain what to make of the man after the Seven Years War. He seemed to be friendly, and had been almost sweet since hostilities had ended between them. But Prussia found himself continuing to keep his guard up. 

Russia spoke first, “You are early.” Prussia was not sure how to interpret the brusque observation. 

He replied, “So are you. I wanted to be punctual.”   
Russia chuckled and said with a knowing smile, “It is always a short trip from Moscow to Warsaw.” 

Prussia was not interested in continuing to make small talk with Russia. He was here to watch the ruin of Poland, not to try to sort out Russia’s intentions towards him. He said, “Where is he?” 

He didn’t need to say the name, since they both already knew that he was asking about Poland. Russia gave him a very meaningful look and said, with a casual gesture to a door, “He’s in there. I’m giving him time to come to terms with it.” 

Prussia scoffed. There was no reason that Poland deserved that kind of mercy. He could understand that he was about to lose a large part of his land, and take it with some grace. That is what he had expected from Prussia years ago. 

Prussia said, “He doesn’t need that.” And then he pushed open the door. 

Poland was sitting at a table, staring at the act of partition that his parliament had passed. He looked like he had not slept, and had barely managed to get himself dressed. How terrible for his vanity. 

He looked up as Prussia came into the room, and he looked pained. Prussia said, “Good morning, Felix.” 

He was certain that his cheery tone would not be reciprocated. Poland sounded hoarse as he said, “No one asked me about this. How could they pass it without me knowing?” 

Prussia knew the answer. It was because the Polish nobles had caved to the threat of invasion from three sides. It would have been foolish to do otherwise. They had seen that giving up land would be better than war. 

He smirked and said, “It seems that Poniatowski has failed you. Now there is nothing for you to do. Just accept your fate.” 

Poland’s face was pale, and any vestige of his usual ease had left it. He gestured at the paper like he was trying to get Prussia to understand something, and said, “This will take so much of my land, and you are doing it without even asking me. I thought you were a man of honor.” 

Prussia had expected some kind of guilt trip like this. Poland had no right to say whether he had any honor or not. He was amused that Poland was resorting to these tactics. He must be desperate. 

Prussia responded, “There is honor in seeking peace. Your land will prevent a war, even if you don’t have the vision to see it.”   
Poland scowled and said, clearly bitter, “Oh yes, you’re such a peace maker. I’ve heard about your exploits.” 

His voice was dripping with a sarcasm. Prussia met his gaze and said, failing to hide his smirk, “Yes, I am. Now there will be peace.” 

He hoped that Poland remembered the words with the same staggering clarity that he did. The lack of recognition on his face was frustrating. Prussia remembered the words like they had been spoken only days ago, but it seemed that Poland had forgotten. 

Prussia wanted his revenge to be clear. So he planted his hands on the table and leaned forward, not breaking eye contact. Then he said, enunciating every syllable, “Pax vobiscum, Felix.” 

The last of the color drained from Poland’s face as he understood. Prussia felt a kind of giddy excitement like he had never felt before. He had power this time, and Poland had to do as he said.

The sublime moment was broken by Austria opening the door, and saying, “What are you doing, Gilbert?” 

Prussia knew the answer: _gloating_. Fritz would surely scold him.

But instead he said, “Just catching up with an old friend.”   
Austria gave him a look of disgust and said, “Let’s get this over with.”


End file.
